Faustus Blackwood Novels & Stories

“But I do not think you and I have crossed that threshold yet, don’t you think?” Fausto. The executioner. The man really has a god complex. “No, Mr. Fausto,” I answer, settling back into my seat. “We haven’t. Because you are demanding the impossible from me. I cannot offer you what you want without destroying my name in the process.” The amusement leaves his face, his eyes narrow beneath the chandelier light, thick fingers tightening around the whiskey glass. “Is that so, Mr. Blackwell?” he asks quietly. “You mean you would put your cousin’s life at risk for a family name?”

The city was still dark when Damian left Blackwood Tower. The conversation with the firefighter had ended nearly an hour earlier, but the words still echoed in his mind with unsettling clarity. Edward Blackwood. His grandfather. The founder of the Blackwood empire. A man who had built hospitals, research foundations, and entire industries in the name of medical advancement. A man Damian had once admired. And now possibly the man responsible for the chain of events that had nearly killed Evelyn. Damian drove through the quiet streets with the phone resting on the passenger seat beside him. The photograph the witness had sent remained open on the screen.

"What is this betrayal, Xavier?" “I guess I’m the lost one.” Everett murmured underneath his breathe. "You killed my parents. And then you made me work for you??" Xavier uttered, flames coming out of his body. Blackwood laughed, "All I did, was clean up an infested dump." He shrugged. "Dump? THOSE WERE PEOPLE!!" Xavier growled. "Oh, my bad. They didn't look like people to me." He laughed out, maniacally. This man, is psychopath.

Standing in the doorway, his expression hard and fierce, was Cassian Blackwood. The Cassian Blackwood—the guy with a reputation for being untouchable, the guy who no one messed with. He wasn’t a regular high school student. He was a legend in his own right, a senior with a mysterious edge and an air of danger that seemed to surround him like a cloud. No one expected Cassian to get involved in anything that didn’t directly concern him. But here he was, and the tension in the room shifted instantly. Derek froze, a mixture of disbelief and rage flickering across his face. He slowly backed away from Savannah, who was still leaning against the desk, trembling. “What the hell are you doing here, B

She was a legend people either feared or pretended not to know. And Blackwood had witches. Hybrid, lunatic, chicken-blooded witches who could sniff secrets out of bones and dreams. “Vivienne Moreau,” he called, voice sharper now, and deliberate. “Open the damn door.” Yep. That was it. Funeral bells. End credits. Roll the fucking montage. I can see my family calling me to join them in hell. “Damn you, Atlas Blackwood,” I muttered under my breath, pacing once, twice, then stopping dead.

"He's demanding audience, Alpha. Says he has a proposition that might prevent... unpleasantness." Unpleasantness. Such a delicate word for the kind of territorial war that could paint these mountains red with supernatural blood. I found Blackwood waiting in the courtyard like he owned it, flanked by three wolves who moved with the particular swagger of creatures who'd never learned proper respect for established territory. He looked older than I remembered—gray threading through dark hair, lines around his eyes that spoke of years spent in exile—but his amber gaze held the same calculating intelligence that had made him dangerous three decades ago.

"You see the face of a man you are pleased to see. A man made of carefully curated lies—fabricated for the cameras, wrapped in a persona tailored for your consumption." His gaze darkened. "But you... are blind." The words rang out, final and damning. Then, Ivan let the weight of his next revelation drop on them like a guillotine blade. "Adrian Blackwood is the son of Azazel Montgomery." At the mention of the name, the reaction was immediate. The crowd instantly froze and whispers began to accumulate. Azazel Montgomery. A name that carried nightmares.